


A River Dances Through It

by Untherius



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1856062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all that had happened, both before the Miranda Incident and since, Mal realized that such was his life and that a River danced through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A River Dances Through It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/gifts).



Mal Reynolds stood atop a low rise. Sagebrush covered the landscape as far as he could see. Mountains rose up across the small valley before him and stretched away toward his left. A small river, the Rio Grande, twisted through the New Mexican lowlands below. He didn't know how he knew that, for photographs were the closest anyone alive had ever been to Earth-That-Was.

A dawn wind buffeted his body. It tugged at his clothing and whipped the occasional strand of hair across his vision.

Motion to his right caught his attention. In the middle of an exposed strip of sand, River moved. Not just moving, though. She danced. It was a complicated one and he soon gave up trying to follow the moves. Instead, he stood there, admiring the view. Her graceful poise, arms delicate yet muscular, legs sinewy yet feminine. The day he ever tired of gazing upon his River was the day she'd have to lay him in the ground.

As he watched, a mist rose up. From where, he wasn't sure. But it came on fast and quickly filled the air. It grew denser and denser until it blotted out the sun.

Mal sat up abruptly. The low throb of Serenity's engines greeted his ears. The close-in recycled air replaced the fresh desert breeze. He sighed deeply. There were probably Captainy things to do anyway. There always were. He reached up and turned on a light, then dressed.

He climbed up into the corridor of the berthing section and met Zoe Washburne walking in the other direction. “Report,” he said curtly.

Zoe cocked an eyebrow.

“Ain't a mornin' person, Zoe. Never have been. Doubtful I never will be.”

Zoe grunted, then shrugged. “Well, you might be if a certain decidedly morning person manages to keep you in her clutches long enough.” Zoe winked. “She knows you're up, by the way.”

Mal cocked his head. “River's your report?”

His Second-in-Command grinned. “Not much else _to_ report, Sir. Between you, me, and the beacon, life's been a bit boring.”

Mal shook his head slowly and chuckled. He wasn't sure he shared his Second's appraisal of the situation. Sure, there'd been a lot less pressure ever since the Operative had expunged their records following the Miranda Incident. But things had been far from boring.

First, there was the ever-present pressure of running a shipping business. Most of it these days was routine and low-risk. Maybe that was what Zoe had meant.

Second, there were Simon and Kaylee. For a while, it had been anyone's guess whose bunk they shared at any given time. Once or twice...hell, at least half a dozen times, come to think of it...he'd stumbled in on them in Engineering. After six months of that, he'd made an executive decision, exercised his prerogative as Captain, and married them according to ancient maritime tradition. Which River had declared was not entirely accurate anyway. But they'd gone and done it all official-like on the next world they'd touched down on. That hadn't changed much, except assign them the same bunk.

Third, there was little Hoban Tam, born some four months after his parents had officially married. That hadn't surprised anyone. But the little guy was an unholy terror. It was a good thing he was so gorram cute. Although the look River always shot him when she was holding her nephew always made Mal a bit uncomfortable. He wasn't remotely psychic, but he did know how to read people and he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Fourth, there was Kaylee's expanding abdomen. And, well, everyone knew what that meant.

Fifth, there was Zoe. She'd mourned her husband in what Mal supposed was her own way. Which was to say long periods of moping interspersed with short periods of beating the go shi out of something, or occasionally someone. He'd never seen her cry, but there'd been more occasions than he could count when he'd turned a corner or gone up to the Bridge to come face-to-face with her puffy-eyed, slightly tear-streaked one, or heard her blowing her nose. He was always there as a shoulder if she ever needed one, something that was mutually understood. But she'd never taken him up on it. Damn, that woman was strong. And stubborn.

Sixth, there was Jayne. Who was, well, Jayne. The man never really seemed to change much. Not on the outside, anyway. Though he did take a fair bit of ribbing while playing with Hoban. River more than once had remarked on how it was like watching a gorilla playing with a kitten. Mal had seen the vids and, well, he had to admit the comparison was uncanny. It was also hilarious somehow.

And last, but certainly not least, there was River. River Reynolds, as of just a couple of months ago, incidentally. Which was rather ironic, whenever he paused to think about it. When he'd first met her, she'd been a troubled girl, erratic and dangerous. He himself had been furious with Simon for bringing her aboard _Serenity_. Things had settled down to a point until the days leading up to the Miranda Incident when he'd again been furious with Simon. Though not with River. Never with River.

He'd never forget the sight of her that day. In a single moment, the girl he'd left not an hour before had vanished, replaced by a young woman, a powerful and terrible valkyric battle-maiden. She'd stood there, a glistening blade in each hand, drenched in the blood of the fallen foe strewn about her, all slain by her own hand. It had been the most glorious sight he'd ever beheld. And the damnest thing he'd ever seen. 

Later, the others had reported what they'd heard after the blast doors had closed. Mostly shrieks and screams. The occasional ring of metal on metal. And, oddly, a song. None of them had been absolutely sure of that last part, though. They'd all been amped up on adrenaline from the fight, and a few of them injured. All of them scared out of their minds, though Jayne would never have admitted it, at least not in so many words. But they'd all thought they'd heard River singing as she'd slain. In any event, River had kept those two Reaver blades and for reasons of her own. 

She'd meticulously cleaned them, repaired the blades within the limits imposed by the material, and had spent hours running a honing stone along their cutting edges, often in times and places that most would have considered inappropriate. Once or twice, she'd sat there at the dinner table, sharpening one of them, testing an edge now and then while shooting a look at Jayne, who'd seemed to squirm under it. They'd all been sure she'd been tormenting him, which had always been nearly as comical as that one time she'd neatly dropped him to the floor. Well, Wash had been right: that still hadn't grown old. River had ceased to be troubled and erratic, but she was still extremely dangerous and that made her intoxicating, too. 

Mal's attention drifted toward the now-familiar sounds of Simon and Kaylee enjoying each other somewhere aft. “Boring? I think you and I have somewhat different definitions of the word.” 

Zoe chuckled. It was good to hear her do that. “Well...you know what I mean.” 

Mal nodded. “Yeah. Nice to not have the Law on our tails all the time.” He chuckled and shook his head. “When did we become respectable?” 

A slightly strained smile spread across Zoe's lips. “Speak for yourself, Sir.” 

“I mean, it's not like I've grown to appreciate the Federation any more than I did before Miranda. It's just...I don't know. Maybe I've been sticking it to the Man for so long, I've forgotten how it is to not.” 

“You know I have no more love for the Alliance than you do. I know we fought a gorram war over it. And I don't have to remind you what it's cost us both then and since. I ain't sayin' it's a fight that don't need fighting. Because it does. Maybe not now. And maybe not by us.” 

“Why not? Why not now? Why not by us? Why not in our own way?” 

“Because the cost is too high. We have children on this boat, Sir.” 

“Children who deserve a better future than what the Alliance would promise them.” 

“You're not wrong. But would you put them in harm's way for that?” 

Mal looked into Zoe's eyes for several moments. The pain of the past was there, pain that might never fully heal. It bothered him. What bothered him more was that he himself bore the same pain. He just dealt with it differently. And there wasn't a gorram thing he could do about it. He rested a hand on Zoe's shoulder. “It'll be fought. Somehow. And someday, it'll be won. Even if we're not around to see it.” 

Zoe seemed to consider that. “What I mean is, is this sort of life really that bad?” 

Mal thought for a moment. His Second had a point, he supposed. “When you put it that way...no, I s'pose not. Now go get some sleep.” 

Zoe nodded, then slipped past him. Mal ran a hand over his hair and exhaled. Being in command had never been easy and that was one thing that hadn't changed. 

He climbed up onto the bridge and slipped into the pilot's seat. It was still warm, but probably not from Zoe. She'd steadfastly refused to sit the pilot's seat. While she still hadn't said why, Mal was pretty sure it had something to do with Wash. But he wasn't about to push the issue. It was a fight that just didn't need fighting. Not yet. 

He glanced over at River. She gazed out at the field of stars and a small, slowly-growing crescent hanging in the black. 

“They're beautiful, aren't they?” she asked, still looking forward. “I never just look at them anymore.” 

Mal smiled. River really was a joy. An unusual one, but a joy nonetheless. “Mornin', Albatross.” 

“She still hurts,” said River. “More than she knows. It's hard, you know?” She locked eyes with Mal. “Knowing what's on everyone's mind.” She smiled. “Especially yours.” She bumped her eyebrows, then swiveled in her seat, that motion merging smoothly and seamlessly into another that ended on her feet. 

She hopped up onto one of the unused tables and spread her legs. She smiled and Mal gulped. River cocked her head to one side. “You don't want Simon and Kaylee to have all the fun, do you?” 

“No,” he said, “I s'pose not.” 

River laughed. “You suppose, do you? And I suppose that you, sir, are wearing just a bit too much clothing.” She extended an arm. Mal took the not-so-subtle hint. He let her pull him to her. Their lips met, gently at first. He kissed her tenderly and she returned it. He let her unbutton his shirt and slip his suspenders off his shoulders. 

Their kisses deepened, drinking in each other's love, and soon they grappled hungrily with one another. Mal wasn't sure when his wife had managed to deprive him of his britches, but he certainly didn't complain when she pressed her femininity against him. 

Some time later, they sat and stood panting. He smiled at her and she beamed back. There was always so much joy in her eyes when they came together. 

She was always enthusiastic, too. Much more so than any of his formers. She wasn't his first and sometimes he felt guilty about that. He tried not to think about it while they were in each other's arms. He wasn't always successful. In fact, it had been a problem the first couple of weeks of their marriage and a few months prior to their wedding. 

But River was remarkably resilient. And a surprisingly good teacher, especially when it came to matters of the mind. So she'd been patient with him and had taught him how to discipline his thoughts, which had proven helpful in plenty of other arenas. 

When Mal had dressed and they'd cleaned up, he sat back in the Captain's chair, River reclining in his arms. He breathed in the scent of her hair as he wrapped his arms around her lithe torso. She really did make him happy and he supposed it went the other way, too. He didn't understand River. Then again, no one did, not even Simon, who was arguably the second most intelligent person in the 'verse after River. 

But Mal had been assured multiple times and by multiple people over multiple years that he shouldn't try to understand women, any of them, and that he'd just have to content himself with loving them. Apparently, that was enough for River, though it wasn't necessarily easy. 

“Moriah's a pretty name,” said River, as she leaned into Mal's arms. 

Mal made an inquisitive noise. 

River twisted around and hit him playfully on his chest. “For our daughter, silly,” she teased. 

“D...daughter?” 

River rolled her eyes. “The one we just made together?” 

Mal's brain ground to a screeching halt. He blinked. “We...you...um...” 

River laughed. “Mal, honey, you're so funny.” 

“Oh, I get it. You're teasin' me.” 

River wrapped her arms around Mal's neck, kissed him, then rubbed her nose against his. “Of course I'm teasing you.” Then she added pensively, “I do hope she gets along with her cousins.” 

“You're still teasing me.” 

“Always, my love. But that doesn't change what we've created together.” 

Mal cocked his head. “You...you're serious. We're going to have a baby?” 

“No, silly. I'm going to have a baby. You're going to watch.” She pulled back slightly. “Aren't you happy?” 

“I...I don't know. Surprised, definitely. It's just...it's a little surreal.” 

“When will it not?” 

“When I see your bulgin' belly, I s'pose.” 

“She'll have your eyes. And my nose.” She rolled her eyes. “And my brother's biting wit, I'm afraid.” 

Mal laughed. “River, you're amazing. Really. And I love you more than life.” 

And he realized that such was his life and that a River danced through it. 


End file.
